REVIEW: Nothing memorable from “Song of Singapore”

The light musical has become a staple of community theater. “Nunsense,” “Forever Plaid” and others of that ilk work their way onto the playbill because of their easy staging and fun opportunities to show off the talent of the actors. There’s not a strong story line needed to carry the production, in the manner of a Broadway-style musical or an opera, say – just a simple scenario to set up the excuse for a bunch of songs.

But unless there are a handful of standout performers or a show-stopping number or two that sets one such musical above all the rest, they can start feeling similar.

And so it is with “Song of Singapore,” the second production in the summer schedule of the Old Lyric Repertory Company in Logan. There is no show-stopper – though a couple of numbers came close on opening night – and none of the songs are memorable. An hour later, audience members would be hard-pressed to hum a tune or sing a line from any of the show’s songs.

Part of the problem was due to the script and songs the actors had to work with. Rather than giving patrons a medley of recognizable and catchy tunes – much in the manner of “Beehive” or “Forever Plaid,” for example – the tunes are wordy dialogues, designed to move the “story” along and to develop characters. Catchy they are not, for the most part, and forgettable they become.

Doing his darndest to keep “Singapore” moving and working hard to stay in the audience’s good graces is Lee Daily, a veteran of numerous OLRC productions. Daily has carried past OLRC efforts – especially musicals – squarely on his back and never fails to deliver a strong effort. Daily’s first solo, especially in comparison to the majority of “Singapore,” is stunning. His crisp, even voice is strong, yet manicured to a precision that reflects years of a wonderful theater presence. He has great range and to the delight of the audience, his words can actually be understood.

Also working his way into the audience’s good graces is Phillip R. Lowe, who makes up for a pedestrian effort in last year’s “Plaid” with a delightful series of songs via several characters. Particularly memorable was his “Harbor of Love,” sung as Inspector Marvin Kurland. When handed the microphone in Freddy’s Soul of Singapore Cafe, the inspector is called upon to be nervous and his shaky voice to strengthen as he sings of cuttlefish and octopus. Lowe has fun and ends up being an audience favorite.

` “Song of Singapore” is set in a club in Indonesia on the eve of Pearl Harbor. Subplots of Amelia Earhart and missing crown jewels and other nonsense round out the reason for the collaboration. Eve Wagstaff plays Freddie S. Lyme, owner and bandleader in the club, and her so-so performance is one reason the production failed to lift patrons on opening night. Wagstaff needs to work on her use of the mike, as her volume often overwhelms any pleasure in the tune she is presenting, pinning patrons’ ears to the back wall. Also, nary a word of Chrislynn Call’s numbers, sung as Chah Li, a Chinese character, can be distinguished.

The story has a running theme about a character known as Rose that has amnesia, a joke hat begins to feel a bit like Doris in “Finding Nemo.” One of the more likable numbers in “Singapore” was Daily and fellow OLRC vet Lego Louis singing to Rose while she was hypnotized, an effort to cure her amnesia.

The band at the SOS Club was noteworthy. Perhaps it was due to their familiarity with audience members – some band members being local junior high band teachers and the like – but more likely it was because of their talent. They never missed a beat or note.

A nod should go to choreographer Stephanie White, who coached actors into getting as much use out of the crowded stage as possible during limited opportunities to dance. Lighting was well done and the set by Dennis Hassan was workman-like while capturing the audience’s imaginations.

While a pleasant way to spend a warm summer evening, “Song of Singapore” floated away like an unfamiliar song on the evening wind and barely penetrates our memories.

Directed by Jon Cranney. Running time 100 minutes, with a 15-minute intermission.